


Snow War

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Control, Friendship, Fun, Gen, Knight and Squire - Freeform, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Geoffrey never saw snow before he came to the Royal Palace.





	Snow War

Snow War

It was Geoffrey’s first winter at the Royal Palace, and he had never seen snow before. The frost that decorated his windows in the morning, and the icicles that hung like miniature silver spears that hung from the castle walls before melting in the warmth of the sun climbing across the pewter gray sky had been astonishing enough, but he could feel his jaw dropping like a fish out of water when he opened a door onto a courtyard blanketed in white for the first time. 

“What is this?” Geoffrey asked his best friend, Douglass of Veldine, as he took his first crunching step into the courtyard. 

“What do you think it is?” Douglass stooped to scoop up a handful of cloudy whiteness in his gloves, rolling it into a ball he hurled at Geoffrey’s face. “It’s snow.” 

“I’ve never seen snow before.” Geoffrey blinked the flakes from his eyelashes, hearing his father’s harsh voice in his ear berating him for being too slow to duck. 

“Now you have.” Douglass seemed to dance across the snow as if he were weightless as a ghost, and Geoffrey wondered why Father had told him stories of snow making roads impassable when his friend could cross it so smoothly. “I’m honored to give you your first taste of snow though it might prove to be an acquired one.” 

Another snowball smashed across Geoffrey’s lips before he could think to dodge it. He felt it—flavorless as the frozen water Father had once taught him it was—melting into his mouth. 

“It’s a snow war!” shouted Douglass, sounding irritated that Douglass had so far failed to return his assaults. “You roll snow into a ball and then throw it at your enemy. I’m your enemy in case you can’t figure that out either.” 

Geoffrey was even more mystified by the idea of rolling snow into a ball than he was by the notion that so much whiteness could fall from the sky overnight. To him, it was as if the stars had sank flaming to the ground. 

“I’ll show you how.” Alex of Tirragen appeared in the courtyard, and Geoffrey flushed with the realization that Alex of Tirragen—finest fencer among the squires, friend of Prince Jonathan, and squire to the charming Roger of Conte—was acknowledging his existence. His hands shook with nervous excitement as Alex coaxed them through the sculpting of a snowball. All strength failed in his arm when Alex whispered in his ear ow he should throw the ball at Douglass. 

The world dissolved into screams, laughter, and smacking snow as he, Douglass, and Alex began a long snowball fight where there were no allies, only enemies who would throw snow at every part of the body. 

The snow war might have waged on until the snow returned to the gray clouds overheard if Duke Roger, wearing luxuriant robes that forbade the flinging of any snow that might mar their perfection however temporarily, strode into the courtyard on boots bedecked with the ermine reserved for those of royal blood. 

“I thought you were delivering this letter for me now, squire.” Duke Roger pulled a sodden piece of parchment with visibly smeared ink from Alex’s pocket. “I didn’t think you would be damaging an important correspondence I had entrusted to you in a snowball fight with pages. You disappoint me.” 

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” Even humiliated, Alex could muster a graceful bow, Geoffrey noted with a lightning flash of envy, wishing that one day he could display even a sliver of the poise Alex did. “Could your magic repair it?” 

“It could.” Duke Roger’s tone was sharp as pine needles, but Geoffrey was captivated by the parchment that did seem to be drying before their eyes and the ink reshaping itself into letters out of the smudges. “Those who don’t have magic would be wise not to take its works for granted, however.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” Chastened, Alex lowered his head like a scolded dog at the pointed reminder that he like Geoffrey was without a Gift. 

“Good. Now return to your duties.” Duke Roger thrust the parchment back into Alex’s pocket with a flourish. “You’re too old to waste time on snowball fights and neglect your obligations to me, Alex.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” Alex bowed again and disappeared to deliver his knightmaster’s letter. 

The duke, smile more cold than charming, nodded at Douglass and Geoffrey, who almost slipped in the snow in their hastiness to bow to the degree Master Oakbridge deemed necessary to honor one of the exalted rank of duke. 

“Do you think all knightmasters are so controlling?” Douglass asked. By silent agreement, he and Geoffrey had decided that the snow war was over because it was no fun after Alex had been torn away from it by Duke Roger. 

“All men with any authority are controlling.” Geoffrey shivered, thinking of the stern father who loomed so large over him even from leagues away. “Let’s go inside, Douglass. My feet are ice, and my teeth are chattering.”


End file.
